Shuffle: GxB
by Micayasha
Summary: An iPod shuffle meme for Gippal/Baralai. Ten songs, ten chapters.
1. Won't Say I'm in Love

This is a shuffle meme: I put my iPod on shuffle and take the first ten songs I get, and then write ficlets to them. This is the Gippal/Baralai (or in some cases, Baralai/Gippal) one. I also have an Auron/Rikku (and Rikku/Auron) one.

* * *

**I**  
Won't Say I'm in Love  
Disney's Hercules  
(sung by Megara/Susan Egan)

_You're way off-base, I won't say it  
Get off my case, I won't say it  
At least, out loud I won't say I'm in love._

_This is crazy. What am I doing? What was I thinking?_ He couldn't remember except that there hadn't been any other option in his mind. It had been a long day, and he was tired and sore and it had seemed perfectly natural that his first thought had been to go straight to Baralai's quarters where the bath was bigger than that of the guest room and the bed was softer, and, well, there was Baralai.

_Oh, this is a bad idea._ Because nobody was supposed to know about them – bad for politics and it might give people the wrong idea. Once the general population got over the shock, it could bring on the same kind of joy and romanticism as the would-be union between Yuna and Seymour. Two of the world's greatest leaders uniting, joining in love and power to bring the world together –

Except Gippal wasn't really the marrying kind. He was more for the casual stuff – because as he had been taught so many times, when you got soft and melty for somebody, they tended to spook and leave you in the dust. Baralai wasn't the gooey kind anyway, and Gippal was okay with a fuck-and-fly kind of thing. Love had never been in the cards for him.

Baralai opened the door in nothing but his pajama pants, his hair tousled from sleep and his eyes lighting up as they focused, and something bright and warm blossomed in Gippal's chest at the sight of him.

"Gippal," he said, and he sounded genuinely pleased, and Gippal wished to any god that might be listening that he could deny it a little longer.


	2. Breakdown

**II**  
Breakdown  
Jack Johnson

_I hope this old train breaks down; then I could take a walk around  
And see what there is to see, and all time is just a melody  
With all the people in the street walking  
Fast as their feet can take 'em, I just roll through town…_

"Wouldn't it be great if this ship just – crashed?"

Baralai stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. Gippal laughed. "Okay, that didn't come out like I meant it. I just mean that we'd be stranded in the middle of absolutely nowhere – and it could take days to repair the airship – and we could just… wander. Work on our fighting, go cliff-diving, star-gazing, whatever. No paperwork, no politics, no lies or images to keep up."

Baralai hugged his knees to his chest, huddling against the cold as he considered. "I suppose it would be… a nice change. But the paperwork would only pile up, and there would be too much to do when we got back. I'm only visiting Djose to take a look at that new guard machine. I can't stay long."

"I know." Gippal groaned and flopped down to lie on his back, staring up at the sky. "Why do you always have to be so – so responsible?"

Baralai leaned over him, smiling. "_Somebody_ has to be."

Gippal's answering smile turned sly. "How irresponsible would it be to ravish you on the deck of a moving airship?"

Baralai's breathing quickened and his muscles jumped when Gippal's hands slid up under his sweater, icy against his skin. "Probably very much so."

Gippal laughed and pulled him down, tasting tea and honey on his lips.


	3. The Nearness of You

**III**_  
_The Nearness of You  
Norah Jones

_It's not the pale moon that excites me  
That thrills and delights me  
Oh no, it's just the nearness of you…_

Before Gippal, Baralai hadn't truly known what 'making love' was.

He had lost his virginity at age eighteen with a pretty, blue-eyed acolyte called Hikari, and though it had been pleasant enough he hadn't really understood why it was made to sound so important, so life-changing, so beautiful.

And then Gippal kissed him one night by the fire, slow and sensual, laid a hand on his hip, his fingers brushing the stripe of skin between shirt and pants, and Baralai's blood was set on fire. Gippal seemed to know his body better than Baralai himself, and though he was no stranger to the mechanics of it all, Gippal's patience and focus – as though nothing else in the world mattered as much as _this_ and the way their bodies moved – gave it all new meaning.

Two years of long, empty nights, when for so long the moon that had spilled soft, kind light over their skin and had kept them company in the dark, now seemed cold and distant. Two years of lying in beds that were plush and luxurious and only made him long for hard ground and sand in his sheets. Two years and when Baralai finally saw him again face-to-face after so long he wanted to throw them to the ground and rediscover everything Gippal had showed him, right there in the glittering, fairy-lit Farplane on its blanket of flowers. Because there was just something about Gippal's presence – being near enough to feel the heat from his body and hear his quiet breaths – that stole all of Baralai's reason and threw it right out the window.


	4. You & I Both

**IV**_  
_You and I Both  
Jason Mraz

_But oftentimes those words get tangled up in lies  
And the bright lights turn to night  
Until the dawn, it brings another day  
To sing about the magic that was you and me…_

It was funny how no matter how hard he tried to forget, to start with a clean slate, to find a nice girl and take the easy road for once – he couldn't seem to do any more than temporarily distract himself. Because however pretty the woman, her hair was always too dark and her body too soft and curvy. He missed sharp angles and smooth planes. He missed the ripple of muscles shifting under him and feeling strength in the arms that held him.

No matter what he did or who he took to bed, it always seemed to come back to Baralai. It always seemed to come back to Gippal turning up on his doorstep with desperation in his eyes, and then there was the frantic shedding of clothes and lips and tongue and teeth and hands going everywhere, devouring like they would never again have the chance.

It was so stupid, so foolish and rash, and Gippal knew that after all they'd been through, they had lost the softness, the unconditional irrevocable love that they'd shared during their time in the Squad. The romance was gone, but the passion lingered like a burr, and no matter what they did, they couldn't seem to shake it.


	5. All the Same

**V  
**All the Same  
Sick Puppies

_I don't mind where you come from, as long as you come to me  
But I don't like illusions, I can't see them clearly  
I don't care, no I wouldn't dare to fix the twist in you  
You've shown me eventually what you'll do  
And I'll take you for who you are, if you take me for everything  
And I'll do it all over again, it's all the same…_

"Why?"

Gippal almost laughed, biting his lip for fear that he might hurt Baralai's feelings. "What do you mean, why?"

Baralai looked genuinely baffled, shaking his head like he was going to wake from a dream. "I – two years ago, perhaps, when I was more – naïve, more innocent, but – I find it hard to believe you still want me now, even knowing who I've become and what I've done for the sake of a simple grudge."

"You don't stop wanting somebody just because they made a few mistakes."

"Many more than a few," Baralai insists. "And they won't stop; I won't stop. This life I've created, the power I stole and the position I usurped – I'm not going to give it up. It began with the simple desire for revenge, but I like the change that I can bring about. I'm going to keep telling lies when I think it's right, and I'll probably make a great many more mistakes in my career."

"Okay." Gippal met his eyes squarely, his voice steady and his smile full of confidence. "I think I can deal with that."

Baralai seemed at a loss for words, but Gippal could see plain as day that there was hope in his eyes, cautious and doubtful, but _there_.

"I want you back. I want, I want—" Gippal laughed at his incoherence. "I want _this_." And he hooked his fingers in the ties of Baralai's collar, leaned across the desk, and sunk into a kiss as familiar as sand between his toes and the sun on his face.


	6. Name

**VI  
**Name  
the Goo Goo Dolls

_Now we're grown-up orphans  
That never knew their names  
We don't belong to no one, that's a shame  
But you could hide beside me, maybe, for a while  
And I won't tell no one your name…_

In Gippal's bed, Baralai is nobody but who he wants to be. He doesn't carry the deceit or the guilt or the pain of his past – all that is shed like snakeskin when he steps over the threshold. Gippal's room is a haven. It's a sanctuary, the one place where he has to think of nothing but good things. It's a mess, with spare parts and scrap metal everywhere, clothes thrown on chairs and hanging off of door handles, paperwork scattered and technology magazines crowding the desk – but comforting in its chaos. Baralai's office and personal quarters in Bevelle are almost too tidy, cleaned every day by the maids. His paperwork is always in neat categorically sorted stacks, and his books are alphabetized. Bevelle is too quiet – the priests speak in low murmurs; their shoes are soft-soled and the carpets are thick. The city is so silent most nights that he thinks it could be _abandoned_ and he wouldn't know the difference.

Here, he listens to the thundering of the temple, the hum of machines, the rustle of sheets when he moves, the whisper of breathing, the beat of Gippal's heart thrumming against his ear.

Here, he must tell no lies and hide nothing – here, there is no Baralai and no Gippal – there is only pleasure and comfort and love. Here, all they have to be is together.


	7. Break Away

**VII  
**Break Away  
the Rascal Flatts

_Let's disappear, gotta jet out of here  
Feel the wind across my face  
We'll have some fun, gonna dance on the run  
It's a perfect day to break away…_

"Get up."

Baralai groans, frowning into his pillow. Gippal is tugging at the blankets clutched in his hand, shaking his shoulder, poking his arm. "Up-up-up," Gippal insists, slurring them into a single word and leaning down to sing it in his ear.

When Baralai finally rolls over and opens his eyes, it's still dark out. That Gippal was up before him is unusual enough – that it isn't even dawn is nearing the downright _wrong._ "What time is it?" he asks groggily, and Gippal beams.

"Almost four," he says gleefully. Now satisfied that Baralai is at least responding, he stands and goes over to the table, where Baralai sees for the first time that there is a suitcase full of clothes. "Get up. I'm kidnapping you."

"What?" Baralai is more awake now.

"We're going on vacation. I figured your little following of priests would try and stop us if we left in broad daylight, so I'm kidnapping you before they wake up. Get up and start packing."

"You're insane." Baralai sits up, running a hand though his hair and blinking the sleep from his eyes. "We can't just leave. I'm scheduled to make a public appearance at the sphere break tournament in Luca on Tuesday, and this afternoon I'm supposed to cut the ribbon of the new library opening here and make a speech about the value of knowledge."

Gippal snorts derisively. "As fun as those things sound, I personally think a week on Besaid beach soaking up the sun, exploring the ruins, and learning how to play blitzball, sounds a hell of a lot better."

Baralai shakes his head. "Insane," he repeats, but with less conviction.

"So?" Gippal turns to him, grinning as if he's already won. And Baralai supposes he has.

"Well," he says, ducking his head ruefully, "I guess it has been a while since I took some time off."


	8. Lonelily

**VIII**  
Lonelily  
Damien Rice

_And you let me down; could have knocked off the evening  
But you lonelily let him push under your bone  
And you let me down; it's one thing you cheated  
But you took him all the way through your bed  
And now you're coming home, and I'm trying to forget  
And you're coming home, and I'm trying to forgive  
You're coming home…_

It wasn't hard to figure out. Gippal was good at reading people, and Baralai had always found it difficult to hide from him. The rest of the world would believe him if he said the sky was green, but Gippal saw into his soul and always had. Baralai wouldn't look him right in the eye, and he smelled different – an unfamiliar perfume, artificial, sharp and acrid. His voice was softer, more hesitant, as though he was cringing in anticipation of being found out.

And Gippal knew.

Part of him wanted to twist the knife. _Who was it, a man or a woman? Was it worth it? Did you feel good afterward?_ But there was such horrible, bone-deep guilt in Baralai's haunted eyes, unhidden self-loathing, and Gippal couldn't bring himself to do any more than keep his kiss chaste. It hurt, like a punch to the stomach, but all he could hope now was that it wouldn't happen again. Baralai regretted it, that much he could see, and knowing Baralai's conscience (not often there but relentless, ruthless when it did show up), maybe that would be enough. He wasn't sure who he was without Baralai, and though he knew he could survive, he didn't really want to find out.


	9. The Call

**IX**_  
_The Call_  
_Regina Spektor

_It started out as a feeling, which then grew into a hope  
Which then turned into a quiet thought, which then turned into a quiet word  
And then that word grew louder and louder, till it was a battle cry  
I'll come back, when you call me  
No need to say goodbye…_

"He will be okay," the healer had said. Her Spiran was clumsy but she seemed quite certain. "Rest. He needs sleep. He will wake up."

"When?" Baralai had asked, but all he'd received was a helpless shrug. Potions could only do so much – now it was up to Gippal to heal, and Baralai wasn't sure he could stick around until that happened. There were bound to be people chasing them, and they had to split up – it had been their plan even before they had been betrayed. There was no point in being conspicuous by staying together. Paine had already gone before he'd even woke up, and he knew he had to do the same.

"I'm sorry," he said, gripping Gippal's hand a little too tightly, not knowing whether or not Gippal could actually hear him. "I have to leave." Gippal's face was so peaceful, his body so relaxed, that it was almost a shock to find his unresponsive lips warm.

The white mage said nothing of the kiss though her eyes widened a little, and Baralai looked up, daring her to comment. "He will live," was all she said.

"Take care of him, then," Baralai answered, and pressed five hundred gil into her hands – it was all he had on him, but he could walk the Highroad. "Whatever he needs."

He would find Gippal again, if it took him the rest of his life, he _would_. But right now the important thing was staying alive long enough to do that – and to take revenge, if he could. But this wouldn't be the end; Baralai was sure of it.


	10. Your Body is a Wonderland

**X  
**Your Body is a Wonderland  
John Mayer

_We got the afternoon; you got this room for two  
One thing I've left to do – discover me, discovering you…  
There's something 'bout the way your hair falls in your face  
I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillowcase  
Your body is a wonderland…_

Gippal loves to explore the secrets of Baralai's body, every scar and freckle and bruise, every inch of it perfect in its imperfection. Everything about Baralai seems so warm – dark skin that glows in the sunlight, whisky-brown eyes, and when Gippal presses his mouth to the pulse in Baralai's neck, he can feel the life humming beneath hard muscles and soft skin. He used to whisper into that dark skin, all the awe he feels, the beauty he sees, but he's given up on trying to convince Baralai of any of it. Now he shows it with his lips, tongue, teeth, hands, touches Baralai with reverence and respect, like he's found an angel – overdoes his worship to prove that it's deserved.

"You're being – silly," Baralai gasps, but he's almost levitating, arching up into Gippal's mouth against the hands pinning his hips to the bed. "Gippal, why do you–" And then, as Gippal pulls away and scrapes his teeth over Baralai's hipbone, a desperate cry of his name. "_Gippal_—"

Gippal almost laughs as his tongue traces the line where hip meets thigh. It's only about the hundredth time today he's brought Baralai so close, _right there_, writhing underneath him, and backed away just in time. "Who's being silly?"

All that comes out of Baralai's mouth is several curses. Gippal does laugh, then, sliding his hand over Baralai's stomach and feeling muscles ripple under his palm. "Doesn't it feel good," he murmurs, sliding up along Baralai's body until their lips brush with his every word, "to be worshipped once in a while?" Baralai gasps for air, eyelids fluttering, his breath smelling of green tea and chocolate, and Gippal grins against his mouth. "Admit it," he teases, his hands slipping around to press into Baralai's back and pull their bodies closer.

Baralai opens his eyes, and desire crackles under Gippal's skin at the heat in their depths. "Yes," he says clearly, and then, a little less calmly, "finish it, _finish_ _it_—"

Gippal kisses him, then, and thinks he could never get too close or discover too much – he could go on forever like this and it would never be _too_ _much_.

In the end, it's usually Baralai who takes control, because he doesn't know how _not_ to. But when it comes to kissing and touching and finding, Gippal can melt him like chocolate in the sun. Sometimes, it does feel good to be worshipped – whether he believes any of it or not.


End file.
